


you are the angel that i couldn't kill

by pepi_peachnbeans



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dreamwalking, Fluff, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Lucifer Loves Sam Winchester, M/M, No Apocalypse, Sam Winchester Says Yes to Lucifer, Season 5 AU, Tender - Freeform, Wingfic, definitely not the lucifer we see canon, lil drabble that got a tad carried away, this is like super soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-24
Updated: 2020-03-24
Packaged: 2021-02-22 21:29:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23300695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pepi_peachnbeans/pseuds/pepi_peachnbeans
Summary: if dean was suppose to be michael's sword, then sam supposes he was always meant to be lucifer's wings
Relationships: Lucifer/Sam Winchester
Comments: 12
Kudos: 176





	you are the angel that i couldn't kill

**Author's Note:**

> so i stg i woke up from a fever dream being like "but if dean is michaels sword what's sam!!!! WHAT IS SAM!!!!?????" 
> 
> anyways this is the result of that. so ooc. usually i don't like writing so blatantly ooc but you know what? i dont mind this time around 
> 
> title from: oh ana by mother mother

Lucifer feels a deep ache in his body, in his heart, his very own essence and grace, as he paces a small circle in the very center of the cage. He's shaking still, a mess of being both furious and full of utter despair at the same time. It was never meant to go like this. 

"Father," Lucifer glances around at the black abyss that is the cage, and maybe he should feel honored, it was made just for him. His voice cracks though as he stares straight up, praying as if God is even listening, can even hear him from all the way down here. "What did you do?" 

When he tries to conjure them up, he straightens his back just like he used to and imagines the way his wings would expand behind him. Lightning cracks, creating just enough light around him to cast a shadow to where his wings used to be. 

Lucifer roars. 

Lucifer spends the better of an eternity just waiting, waiting and waiting. He knows the very second that Sam Winchester is born, and the name tastes like a prayer he says as he whispers the name out loud in the cage, and it feels like salvation. It's burned into the back of his eyelids, just like the name of ever prophet that has ever, and will ever exist. His vessel, his true vessel. He is the one human who can alter Lucifer's fate, and leave him riding out in victory or a pile of nothing at Michael's feet, and if Lucifer has to pick, he'd rather be the winner of a battle he never wanted to happen in the first place. 

When Lucifer is finally freed, he feels the way that lightning cracks underneath the layers of his being, which have still remained almost fully intact for his benefit. He can feel Sam's soul, and it's so close, he feels the need to reach out thrumming through himself. But when he gets there, there is no Sam to greet him, only the bodies of a very dead Lilith and Ruby, and Lucifer tries to fight back the rejection. 

Lucifer makes it a habit to walk into Sam's dreams, even after the first time didn't go so well. He doesn't always talk, more often than not, he buried himself and merely observed the dreams that Sam had. In the cage he never got to learn about Sam outside of his existence, and Lucifer wanted to know everything he can about the human, wanted to give him everything, even when Sam didn't want him to. So for nights, Lucifer just watched. He watched the good, and he watched the bad. He watched hunts that nearly go wrong, he witnesses fights and pain, but it isn't all bad. Lucifer see's Sam smile and laugh, hug his brother, play ball with Bobby. Through Sam's dreams, he gets to relive the pride Sam felt in himself when he finished his first semester ever at Stanford with nothing less than a 3.5, and even though Lucifer knows absolutely nothing of human education grading, he knows it must be good. 

But Lucifer always wants to reach out, to be selfish, and claim more of Sam, to talk to him. Lucifer wants nothing more than to see him in person, but he knows that an angels gone through great lengths to hide him away, not just from Lucifer, but any other prying angel. In dreamwalking, Lucifer can still sense it, and see it, but it's almost a muddled version of the real thing. Even then, it's the greatest thing that Lucifer has ever seen. 

Sam's soul is bright, impossibly so, and beautiful like no human souls before him. Adam nor Eve could even compare, nor the soul that Lucifer hand twisted into the first ever demon. It wasn't like Cain's, nor like Abel's. It makes him want to pull Sam close to him and never let go because it calls out to him. 

"You've been in my dreams for awhile now," Sam says the first time Lucifer reveals himself after their unfortunate previous meeting. "Not talking, but lurking." 

It comes as a bit of a surprise to Lucifer, and he leans against the table in the motel room that Sam's created in his head. "You could feel me?" 

"Yeah," Sam's voice is a bit dry as he frowns and stares down. "It was always like there was a part that didn't belong, but at the same time I wanted to reach out for it, and I didn't have to think too long about it because I realized it had to be you." 

"I didn't want to intrude," Lucifer keeps his voice soft as he remains eerily still at the table he leans against. "I wanted to learn about you." 

"Why?" Sam looks up, eyes blazing with an anger, and Lucifer truly doesn't know what he's done wrong. "Why do you want to learn about me?" 

"Because you're you Sam," he frowns unsure of how else to explain himself. "I want to know everything there is about you. I want to know about every thing that's happened in your life no matter how big or small. I want to know every molecule that makes up your being by heart, so if I ever need to, I can rebuild you piece by piece with my eyes closed. I want to feel your soul." 

"That's," Sam pauses as his eyes dart away, his mouth curving in a little dance and his fingers pick at the sweats he's wearing. "really creepy dude, you sound like a serial killer." 

"Aren't I though?" Lucifer smiles. "A serial killer?" 

"By definition, yeah probably," Sam agrees easily. "And you want to wear my body to do it." 

Lucifer leans forward as if to get closer to Sam, but he minds himself to not actually move. This is the only time he gets to talk to Sam, and he wants to relish in it, let it last for as long as Sam stays asleep, which really, can be as long as Lucifer wills it so, but he wouldn't do that. He vowed to never harm Sam, and he wants to make good on that promise. 

This is what he gets though, for being locked away for so long. Misconceptions, hatred for reasons he doesn't understand. All because he loved too much, and he's been painted to be the very enemy of everything. Even as the enemy of the one being he would never lay a violent finger on, and it isn't fair. "I don't want your body Sam, I want you." 

Sam doesn't have anything to say. 

The very next night, Sam holds his head high. "I'm nothing like you Lucifer," he spits as if being compared to him is the worst of insults. "And Dean's nothing like Michael." 

"Yeah?" Lucifer asks with a raised eyebrow, because this is a false sense of bravado and he knows it, and finds it utterly interesting that these humans like to cling to fake lies because it's easier to face than the truth. It makes him sigh because he expected more out of his true vessel, but he's only human, and Lucifer knows he can't make Sam understand, no matter how much he wants to. 

"Michael hurt you," and his tone is accusatory, but it's full of truth then, and Lucifer holds off a wince. "But Dean would never do that to me. He would never throw me away like I'm some garbage." 

Because that's essentially what Michael did, and Lucifer wants to snort. If anything, it makes his point that he isn't the bad guy, that his crime doesn't fit the punishment, but Lucifer remains silent as he watches Sam stand in front of him, seething and full of hatred. Eventually he settles on agreement, "No. I suppose not." 

Even then, it seems to have been the wrong thing to say, but Lucifer's never been good with words, and no one ever truly wants to listen. 

The first time that Lucifer touches Sam in a dream, he pulls away instantly with a harsh gasp. It had started with Sam pacing angrily, and Lucifer has no idea of the things that go on outside of his dreams, but whatever it is, it's been forcing Sam on the edge, making him more tense than normal. But Lucifer is over filled with an urge to sooth, and he doesn't think much more about it as he reaches forward to grab at Sam's wrist in hope to have him stop pacing, "Sam-" 

They touch, and Lucifer can feel the way that his very own grace swells, calls out for Sam. How it wants to reach underneath his skin and through his blood to wrap around his soul snuggly. And he can feel it, can feel Sam's soul calling out, and Lucifer reckons it to feeling like coming home, it feels right. 

"Don't!" Sam snaps as he jumps several feet back, other hand cradling his wrist like he is utterly scandalized. "Don't touch me" 

"I want to help you," Lucifer frowns as he watches Sam. 

"I don't want your help." 

The next night, all of the fight seems to leave Sam's body as he sits on the edge of the motel bed that he's dreamed of. In a way, Lucifer would prefer an angry Sam, at least then he knows what's going on through the humans head. It's easier to tell when he's pacing and spewing insults and cursing anything and everyone. This is different though. 

"You don't have to go through this alone Sam," Lucifer finally offers, hand extended in front of him as he remains across from Sam. Wrist turned up like he remembers from animals when his Father started to create them, to expose a sense of vulnerability. 

Sam snorts as he looks to the side of the room, hair falling in his face, "Oh so now the devil's going to give me some suicide awareness conversation. Perfect." 

"No that's not-" Lucifer stops as he watches Sam in front of him very carefully as he wonders if that's what this is. "When I fell, I was alone. I didn't have my brothers or sisters, or my father. I didn't have friends. What I'm saying Sam is, you don't have to be alone now. You have me." 

It causes Sam to look down again, causing his hair to fall even further, and his voice is quiet and childish as he says, "I don't want to fall, I want to be good." 

Moving forward, Lucifer kneels on the ground in front of Sam. Hands coming up slowly, he first lays his palms flat on Sam's knees which cause his green eyes to dart up and meet his. Lucifer doesn't stop there though, he let's his palms slide around Sam's body. Up his thighs and down their sides, across his stomach and ribcage where he can feel the power of Enochian magic which hides Sam from him. Across his exposed arms until his hands enclose on Sam's neck and he can feel his pulse point and just how fast his heart is racing, even if this is a dream. One hand slides up to his face, tucking the stray hair behind his ear and staying cupped around his face. "You are good, in ways I don't understand, in ways humans would cheer you on for. I'll always be here to catch you." 

"Is that suppose to make me feel better?" 

"Is it working?" the corners of Lucifer's lips tug up in a smile. 

"No," Sam says very seriously as he tries to pull out of Lucifer's grip. One of his hands come up to Lucifer's wrist to forcefully pull his own hand off, and he doesn't let go immediately. 

Lucifer obliges though to his wish, and lets his hands fall back down as he continues to kneel here on the ground in front of Sam. Cocking his head to the side he watches him, "When are you going to stop hating me Sam? What can I do to make you stop hating me?" 

"I have to hate you," Sam's voice is full of painful honesty. "Because I'm afraid of what that means if I don't." 

Sam watches the angel in front of him, a frown permanently etched on his face. "If Dean is Michael's sword, than what am I?" 

Across from him Zachariah sneers, "An abomination, you shouldn't exist." 

It's a fact that Sam knows it to be true, and what makes it worse is the way that Dean later adverts his eyes in the impala and says nothing on the matter, and Castiel stares at him with an otherworldly look in his eyes. About halfway through the drive, him and Dean switch off so Dean can fall asleep in the passenger seat. 

"Hey Cas?" 

"Yes Sam?" Castiel leans forward in his seat, eyebrows tugged down in what Sam is sure is his permanent resting face. 

"What..." he starts off and pauses again as he grips at the steering wheel until his knuckles turn white. He can't help but feel like he's a kid hiding some dirty secret, and he hates this. "What happens when an angel falls?" 

If Castiel is offended or taken by surprise by the question he doesn't show it. "Well, depending on their class or rank, some loose their grace completely, others loose a little bit. Power isn't really the purpose of the punishment of a fallen angel though Sam. It's all complicated, angelic grace and the power derived from the Host. The biggest point though Sam is our wings, angels loose their wings. Some angels wings go completely, while others become just bone." 

Sam nods slowly his throat suddenly feeling far too dry. He fears the answer before he fully even asks, "and without their wings?" 

"They can never return to Heaven." 

The question is on the very tip of Sam's tongue the next time that he sees Lucifer in his dreams which is every night actually. Not that Sam minds as much as he did the first few times around. Somehow he manages to be conscious, but his body feels more at rest than it ever has before, and without asking he knows that it's Lucifer's doing. 

"If you have something to ask me, do it. I told you feel free too, that I would answer." 

Silently, Sam nods because he remembers Lucifer's reassurance that he wants Sam to know all about him too. It's a liberty that Sam hasn't really used much of, not for anything serious. He's spent more than enough time asking for times about before Lucifer's fall, or even afterwards. He's asked questions about the creation of the universe, and Lucifer would give him answers. On worse nights Sam would ask about the apocalypse too. 

"What were your wings like?" 

Sometimes it's surprising how strikingly human Lucifer can act when he wants to. Emotions shines in his blue eyes, and Sam can tell that he looks almost sad. He stills entirely from his previous movement, and Sam almost feels bad for asking. 

"They were beautiful," he whispers out as if he was afraid to speak any louder. "They were impressive, I was a warrior of Heaven, the light bearer. They were all light, like little suns attached to my back. The only other angel who had wings the size of mine were Michael. Not even Raphael did, and Gabriel's wings were made strong buy slick for quick and smooth flight." 

Reaching out, Sam realizes half way through that he's taken Lucifer's hand in his own, but he finds himself not minding it that much as he rubs a thumb across his knuckles. He feels entirely out of his ball park here because he doesn't know how to comfort the devil. "What about now?" 

His eyes close and he grows quiet, "They were taken away from me." 

There has begun to become a turning point where Sam begins to accept Lucifer in his dreams. He begins to stop fighting him, by pushing him away. Where Sam stays quiet as he lets Lucifer run his finger tips across his open palm and across his wrists to swoop up and around his arms. Sam likes to reason that he knows at least while he sleeps that Lucifer isn't out doing things like raising the dead and destroying the Earth. 

"Sam?" Lucifer speaks, breaking up the silence that previously filled the room. Sam's laying down on his back, staring up at the ceiling with an arm out stretched so Lucifer can run his fingers along every inch, tracing veins, feeling muscle, and rubbing a thumb tenderly over old scars as if he's afraid to hurt Sam anymore. "When you left to Standford, when you weren't a hunter anymore, but just a student, were you free?" 

Letting out a deep sigh that seems far too aged for how old Sam actually is, he closes his eyes as his arm twitches underneath Lucifer's hands. "No, I don't think I was. Not really anyways. I still felt awkward and like an outcast. But this time I got to add the paranoia of everyone finding out I hunted ghosts." 

From where he is, Lucifer nods slowly in an understanding. "I didn't feel free when I fell," he hums as he interlaces his fingers with Sam's, and he pauses finding that he quite likes the way that they look together. "All I ever wanted to do was fit in and please a Father that I never could." 

Rolling over from his back, Sam lays on his side so that he's leaning in to Lucifer because maybe everything that Lucifer's been telling him is true. That if any creature in the world was going to understand Sam's pain, then it would be the archangel right now he's clutching to his hand as if Sam is going to wake up any second and leave him until he dreams again. "My dad told Dean to put a bullet in me." 

It's Lucifer's turn to turn his head to look at Sam, and his face is painted in an expression that utterly reads _I told you so_ , but even then he doesn't actually ever say the words. But Lucifer isn't the biggest on human social ques, but even he knows that it isn't the appropriate thing to say in this moment and it wouldn't serve any purpose to Sam. 

He watches as Sam's green eyes go wide with tears in the corner, and Lucifer wonders if Sam cried often as a child. "Am I really damned? Because God made me, quite literally, to be your true vessel? Was I never meant to belong? Or to be happy? Tainted by a demons blood and compulsions for it that I can't control. I still ask myself this because I can't face myself in the mirror, am I a monster?" 

It's that notion alone that has Lucifer pushing himself up with his free harm until he is sitting up and leaning over Sam who is blinking up at him still with tears in his eyes. With the hand that isn't holding Sam's, he wastes no time in laying it directly over the hunters heart. 

"You are far from a monster Sam," he gives a sad smile. "It's all in perspective, I don't think I'm one, and I know you aren't. But let me tell you one thing Sam, you're beautiful, any angel can tell. You were made from stardust and molecules put together and hand fused by God himself. The plan has been written for a millennia, and make no mistake that you are quite special to me Samuel Winchester, human, vessel, or not. You saved me, and for that I will always be thankful. And your soul? It's warm in all the places that I'm not, you have your own slice of the divine tucked neatly inside. It's fused with chemicals from the sun, and I've never seen anything like it before." 

When the tears fall Lucifer is there to wipe them away. 

Sometimes Sam also takes comfort in touching Lucifer, needing it just as much as the archangel does. There's something about it that gives a reassurance deep set in his bones and it makes everything feel less like he's Atlas with the world on his shoulders. It's only in his dreams that he's allowed to relax and let go of his responsibilities, because in here it's only him and Lucifer. It's easy to forget about brotherly feuds, guilt, or any other supernatural creature. 

Lucifer has Sam pressed up tight against his chest, insisting to be as close as they can with all things considered. One hand is pressed gently against the nape of his neck and the other against the small of his back, and Sam lets his eyes fall close to feign rest as he keeps one arm thrown around Lucifer's waist to keep their chest snug, and the other around his shoulders. Sam lives in the moment of just being able to spread his hand wide and let his thumb rub circles against the over shirt Lucifer wears. 

He doesn't really know how long it's been since he's been with someone intimately like this. Maybe Ruby, Madison, or even Jess. But Sam can't honestly remember a time that he's felt so safe and loved and that's what makes him close his eyes because he can feel his resolve go and in the morning he will hate himself for this, for giving in to his own wants and needs just so for a couple of hours he won't feel so fucking alone. 

"Hey Lucifer?" he starts, he stops making circles with his thumb for a moment as he digs his fingers in to Lucifer's flesh, squeezing as if to grab his attention. 

"Yes?" He says the word, and Sam can physically feel the vibrations of his chest, a reminder that this is real, that in some weird sense, Lucifer is actually here right now. 

"Do you think-" he starts but cuts himself off with a light cough as he buries himself a bit deeper in Lucifer's chest. It isn't warm, but he's cozy enough, and Sam thinks back to when Lucifer said Sam's warm in all the ways he never could be. "Do you think if this was any other circumstance, you would still like me?" 

"What do you mean?" Lucifer keeps his tone light and neutral as his fingers curl further around Sam's neck and press into it lightly. If this was anyone else, Sam would never let this action slide, he would never roll over and bear his neck so willingly, and maybe it's naive to still do it now, because this is the _devil_ , but at the same hand this is _Lucifer_ , and Sam can't picture himself ever denying this kind of care and attention ever again. 

Sam breathes out wondering if this is how Lucifer felt for weeks as he tried to get Sam to listen to him. This amount of flustered and loss for words as he searches for a way to get his point across. "Like if it wasn't written in the stars or whatever that we are 'made for each other'. If I wasn't your true vessel, would you hate me as much as you hate other humans?" 

It's silent for quite some time as Lucifer frowns, his fingertips edging into Sam's hair to pet through the brown locks that have begun to grow longer. Lucifer stops to really consider the question, and he closes his own eyes as he takes in the access to knowledge that he happens to have. He doesn't know nearly everything, but just enough, enough that he grasps concepts, or understands emotions. Maybe that's the curse angels get, it wasn't enough to be able to manipulate time. Maybe there would be a time where Lucifer reaches a fist through Sam's chest, or controls Sam's body as he stomps Dean down because Heaven has long but fled the scene. And maybe there is even a time where Michael succeeds in killing him. Even then... 

"I don't see a timeline where we both exist where I wouldn't want to be with you Sam. Whether we share a body or not." 

Against his neck, after Sam shifts, Lucifer can feel the way his lips tug into a smile. "I guess that's comforting." 

Humming, Lucifer gives his own smile as he uses his hands to turn Sam's head until they're making eye contact and he can see the hunters face clearly. "I doubt it is." 

Sam's eyes rack over his face and his voice drops lower, "Well you like me in this timeline, and I think that's enough." 

"What are you going to do?" Sam asks Lucifer honestly. For as long as he's been doing this dance with Lucifer, it's been quite some time since the archangel has urged him to say yes. In fact, it's been eerily calm from his sides of things, and it's left Sam cowering away from the mighty wrath of Heaven and all of the forces Michael is willing to send after him for this cause. 

Lucifer looks up from where his head rests against Sam's shoulder as he leans his weight against the hunters back while they're sitting. "I don't want to kill Michael, but he'll kill me." 

"Wouldn't he just lock you up in the cage?" 

Against his shoulder Lucifer shakes his head and his voice is filled with a hatred that Sam hasn't heard from him ever, "I would rather _die_ than go back in the cage Sam." 

Sam feels bad enough for bringing the topic up because after everything he hasn't seen Lucifer once loose his eerie calm, but now he begins to shift with unease and Sam searches to sooth it. "Was it that bad?" he asks, his fingers scratching the crown of Lucifer's head. 

"Sometimes, I expect all of this to dissolve around me," he waves vaguely. "That I will blink and open my eyes and all I will see will be darkness because I never really left the cage. that I'm still stuck back there, and this is all some new found torture."

"How could this be torture?" Sam teases lightly, unsure of is Lucifer understands the very human level of humor that he uses. To hopefully get his point across he turns his head towards Lucifer's so his lips brush against his forehead in a pseudo kiss. 

The action makes Lucifer smile sadly his own hand sliding up Sam's neck to cup his jaw. "Wouldn't it be the worst to think that you've been given the world right at your finger tips," he takes his thumb and rubs it over Sam's lips slowly. "just to find out it was never real and it's something that you can never have?" 

Sam frowns, "I'm real." 

As if admitting defeat, Lucifer sags against Sam, "I know." 

Leaning in closer Sam feels the need to add, "And you have me, I'm not going anywhere. I'm yours." 

Lucifer closes his eyes, "I know." 

"Lucifer," Sam's voice is low and firm as he tilts Lucifer's head up to look at him. "What do you want?" 

Gulping, Lucifer opens his eyes and they shine and his voice is a mere whisper, "I want to go home." 

"Lucifer, I'm in Detroit." 

Slowly, Lucifer turns away from Sam who's standing behind him choosing instead to look at the ugly and faded out paint of the wall in front of him. He's learned by now what motel room this is, the one that Sam always dreams of them being in. It's one from a motel he stayed in the first time he ever ran away from his father and Dean. "Sam-" 

"Grand River Avenue. The Viking Motel." 

Seeing Lucifer in person for the first time nearly takes Sam's breath away. He didn't know how rough to wear his current vessel, Nick he's learned, really is. But nevertheless, Lucifer stands there, cautiously keeping his distance from Sam, blisters and burns cover ever visible inch of his body, because Lucifer buzzes with power and Nick wasn't meant to hold it. 

Sam wonders how he was made to. 

"Sam," Lucifer's voice is still has the same soft lilt to it that he does in all of his dreams, and he manages to sound so desperate as he reaches out, slowly, as if he goes any faster and then Sam will be pulling away. 

Not that Sam would ever dream of it. 

Lucifer is in awe at what it feels like to feel Sam to actually be this close to him, to see him and his soul without the shade the dreams offer. It leaves his throat dry and Sam pulls him into a hug, and all Lucifer wants is to be close. He presses himself further, his hands sliding across Sam's biceps and to his chest and he leans in to rest his cheek right against Sam's. It makes Sam close his eyes to feel the way the rough stubble feels against his cheek. 

"Why now?" Lucifer asks, his lips brushing the shell of Sam's ear and it leaves shivers going down his spine. 

"I want to say yes." 

Wandering hands still at Sam's stomach, and the action almost reminds Sam just how nonhuman Lucifer really is. That he likely doesn't even need to breathe, and this stillness is entirely unnatural. Even then, he doesn't pull away from the touch, and Sam wonders if it has anything to do with the blue light that shines from where they're touching, it's his soul reaching out for Lucifer, because in reality, he wants Lucifer just as much as Lucifer needs him. 

"Why? You don't want the destruction of your world, and I don't want to fight Michael." 

"I know," Sam squeezes him just a bit harder. He knows by now how much Lucifer revels in physical contact. "But you promised me once you wanted to make me happy, to give me everything." 

Lucifer hesitates, his hands moving again slowly, dipping against Sam's hips, "I did promise that." 

"I want to do the same for you." 

Sighing, Lucifer pushes his fingers into Sam's hair, enjoying the way each strand feels against the new human like touch that Lucifer's never truly had before. When he walked the Earth the first time he hadn't been residing in a human, he had been in his pure form. Something he could never get away with this time around because he would likely burn a whole city to the ground. He lets the moment linger, enjoying the way his grace reaches out and Sam to meet it. "I'm content just being able to hold you like this. Michael may have casted me out, but you can still fix things with Dean." 

Because humans were given free will, and Lucifer's learned that the Winchester fully intend to use the gift that Lucifer's brothers and sisters never had. He had learned through the twisted vines of connections that Dean was able to do for Sam that Michael never considered to do for Lucifer, and so he knows that Sam has all of the options that he never has. John may still be dead, but he has Dean, he doesn't need to fall to this. It hits him in surprise then at how much he doesn't want this human in front of him to fall, to lose the love of his brother. Years ago Lucifer dreamed of nothing but gaining back his former glory, and it leaves him surprised at how the human in his arms have managed to change that all completely, leaving Lucifer content to hide and run from Heaven. 

Sam shakes his head and pulls away enough so this time around he can look Lucifer in the eye. "No, Lucifer. I _want_ to give you this, to give you me." and Lucifer finds it so hard to look away from the green eyes that seemingly pin him in place even though besides love Sam has no true power over him. "I want to bring you home." 

And if Lucifer could fall again, he's sure this is the closest he will ever get to that feeling. It's like there's darkness all around him but this time there's a light extended to him that looks an awful lot like Sam's hand. This might just be his Father's cruelest trick of them all, and Lucifer remembers his own words, _you've been given the world right at your finger tips_ , because this is a temptation that not even the Devil himself can resist. 

"Sam..." 

"I'm going to bring you home." 

With wide eyes, Sam watches as the room bursts into an array of bright light, and it reminds him of the very first time that he had opened the door of the cage to allow Lucifer to step out. Fleetingly then, as raw power and energy surges he realizes that it hadn't been the magic to make the light, but it had been Lucifer, in all of his glory, because no matter how much of a creature of Hell he is conditioned to believe he's become, he's still the light bearer of Heaven. 

When Sam feels like he's waking up, he realizes that he isn't exactly awake nor asleep, and it's rather an odd feeling. He's in a forest with trees wider than any he's ever seen before, and as he turns he realizes it isn't his minds doing, but Lucifer. 

He's standing next to Sam, looking off at the pines still looking like Nick, but this time whole again. All around Sam, physically, mentally, and spiritually, he feels himself getting engulfed in a calming light, and it fits so snug against him. With no need, he feels himself close his eyes anyways because he's never felt this full and complete before. 

"Can you feel that?" Lucifer asks from beside him, the back of his hand running down Sam's arm. 

"Is it us?" Sam peaks open and eye to see Lucifer is looking at him and nods at the question. 

It's weird how Sam can see the motel room in front of him but can do nothing, move nothing in his body, and a part of him wants to be panicked. It should remind him of the time that Meg had possessed him, where Sam was clawing at the mental wall as he watched everything she did in his body, unable to stop all of it. But maybe it's the coolness that makes him relax or the fact that this is Lucifer. 

Lucifer doesn't do anything immediately evil or damning. He takes the time to blink as if he was waking up for the first time and lets his eyes dart around the room like he can finally see. He breathes in as he raises Sam's hand, turning them over and clenching and unclenching his fists. On the second hand, Sam feels the way his body straightens and shoulders roll back as if he was going for a defense position and then an entirely new feeling emerges, a new set of crackling energy that Sam has never felt before releases. It's a feeling Lucifer hasn't felt in years. 

Unsure, Sam turns his head to see Lucifer standing next to him in his mind, and he's weeping. Tears roll down his face and Sam never thought that he would ever see the devil cry. Turning make to the almost like mirror that allows him to see the real world he catches sight of what's got Lucifer all worked up. 

In the window of the motel Sam can see himself with red glowing eyes, that would in any other case me slightly unnerving, but behind him taking up almost all of the room was a set of wings. Unruly and full of power, they're bright, filled with so much light, and they're hardly contained by the room, and Sam feels awestruck because they're gorgeous, Lucifer's description could never truly compare to what the real sight of the wings look like. 

"Sam," Lucifer looks up at him, eyes shining with so much emotion, so much love and reverence. "you've given me the greatest gift of them all." 

And all Sam can do is think that Lucifer doesn't need to wait anymore and he smiles, "Well, what are you waiting for?" 

Lucifer wastes no more time as he takes to the sky in flight, determined to get to the one place that he's been deprived of for so long, and Sam doesn't find himself minding one bit if it's at his own bodily autonomy suspense, because he feels as if all things are right and that he's gotten it all figured out. If Dean was suppose to be Michael's sword, then Sam supposes he was always meant to be Lucifer's wings.


End file.
